


Sweet Dreams

by darwinsdonut



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One-Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darwinsdonut/pseuds/darwinsdonut
Summary: York has dreamt of Carolina every day since her supposed death- and when she unexpectedly shows up at his door one night, he can scarcely believe it's real.





	Sweet Dreams

York’s fingers tangled through fiery hair, the soft locks curling around his fingertips as a hum of contentment emerged in his chest. A smile lifted the corners of his lips as they pressed to the back of her head. The sweet scent of Carolina, sweat and armor and gunpowder and strawberry shampoo, lingered from her hair. Her body fit against his as he lay with one arm underneath her and his chest against her back, his other arm free to run through her hair as she slept. Peaceful, happy Carolina- laughing now and then at whatever she dreamt of- was all he’d ever wanted. _Knock-knock-knock._

The firm rapping of a fist on his door woke him. Not urgent pounding nor timid tapping, but a familiar kind of knock, one he’d heard only one time before. And even as he woke from his habitual light sleep, he remembered that time- when Carolina had come to his room, sleepless shadows under defeated eyes, and asked if she was good at anything at all, and they’d had a long talk. She had never come to him in need of anything, except the one occasion. And he couldn’t bring himself to believe she would do so now, not when the Meta had supposedly killed her, not when she’d never sought him out, not when it had been so long. Project Freelancer was dead and York was alone, a vagrant, a thief, migrating from place to place selling cheap spare parts. It was only wishful thinking to imagine she was here now. 

Still, _someone_ had knocked. He dragged himself from his bed and scratched the back of his neck even as Delta whispered mentally, _York, you know it’s not her, and it’s unwise to allow such hopes. It hinders your sleep._

He ignored the AI’s voice as he grabbed his handgun and headed for the door. It jabbered on, _The proper reaction at this moment would be to first don your armor, and then secure a location out of sight and take your attacker by surprise. The percentage of someone finding you here is minimal, and potential enemies…_

Blah blah. Delta’s logistics had become a background drone to York, constant and mildly irritating, like living with chronic pain. He readied the gun and opened the door. 

_Holy shit._

His eyes fell first on vivid green, peridot green, and then vibrant hair that moments ago he’d stroked in a fictitious reality. She stared at him with eyes that begged forgiveness and a hard line of a mouth that said she’d never apologize. He stared back with earnestness, willing her to understand she never had to apologize, yearning for her to reach out and touch him, wondering why she was here. 

_All my statistics say this reality was of little possibility, and-_

_Shut up, Delta. Give me some privacy. Now._

The AI vanished, for once. York dropped the gun on the table by the door and managed to squeeze out the words, “Hey there, Carolina.” 

“York,” she said, and crumbled. 

She fell into his chest with the grace of sawed timber, the great and inevitable collapse crashing against him. He caught her- he would always catch her any time she fell- and arms wrapped around bodies and he caught a whiff of sweat and armor and strawberry shampoo. His heart pounded in his chest, a sensation he was barely aware of, as his brain insisted this couldn’t be real. He’d dreamed of it too often, fantasized and imagined and longed and thought- and he felt the weight of her head on his ribs and the clinging hands clutching his t-shirt fabric and it was _real._ It was all real. 

The faintest sound emerged from her, somewhere between a gasp and a sob, and only then did he realize she was trembling. 

“Carolina,” he tried to say, but only managed a whisper. He pulled her closer. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice shaking with growing sobs. His heart ached beneath her head- he had never needed to hear those words from her, and had never wanted to. Carolina wasn’t the type to cry or apologize. He never wanted her to do either, not on his account. 

“Come here,” he murmured, the words he could say, the words that didn’t rocket around then inside his brain or flutter up his throat from his heart. Too many words- too much that needed to be said- too much he couldn’t pester her with now. He needed her side of it, needed her to be _okay,_ didn’t care about anything else- 

She forced a shaking breath and stepped back, wiping her eyes and looking up at him. “May I- may I come in?” 

He tried for a smooth smile, but it barely turned his lips. “Would I ever turn you away?” 

“I- I don’t know.” 

He answered by wrapping an arm around her torso and pulling her through the doorway. Once he had her inside, he closed the door and turned to her, standing too close. His eyes fell on her lips when he turned back to her, and he craved them as he always had. He forced down the urge and made himself meet her eyes. 

“You’re always welcome wherever I am,” he said. 

The words drew another earthquake into her eyes, but she shoved it down before the faultlines could spread. “I… Don’t know that I deserve to be.” 

His brow twitched. “Why? Because you didn’t run away with me?” 

“Because- because I was headstrong, and angry, and- and you didn’t deserve to be left the way- the way _I_ left you-” 

Her voice cracked and he wanted to pull her close again; but this was Carolina, and you did things how she wanted or not at all, and you didn’t push for affection. He wasn’t chancing anything that might make her run, not when he knew how much it must have taken for her to come find him. 

“Carolina.” 

She stared up at him and those green eyes begged forgiveness again. His hands screamed to be nestled in that red hair, his lips longed to meet hers. He restrained himself, as he always would for her, and used his words. 

“I understand,” he said instead, and that was all it took. 

The briefest moment separated his words and her actions, a moment with the flit of fire and hope in green eyes, a moment where her hands reached to him and his heart leapt in nervous anticipation. A moment where she could’ve killed him for how slow his reaction time was. A moment where two people, once almost-lovers, now almost-strangers, knew years of longing were soon to be put to rest. 

Then the moment ended, and all pain was chased from York. 

Her hands met his side and the back of his neck, pulling him to her, need yanking him down. Eyes closed and lips met and it was sweet and it was _good._ Heaven sang around York as his arms curled around her, his rapid heart replaced by a swirling buzz of ecstasy. They had never kissed, and it was clumsy, lips mashing together for the first time. And York- York was _happy._

He had never known happiness like kissing Carolina, and he had never known happiness like parting from her lips to open his eyes and see her smile. The agonizing apology had vanished from her, and her hands cupped his cheeks as her eyes flickered over his. York couldn’t help but smile, and he couldn’t help his eyes watering, he was a fucking _sap,_ and it just happened that way. And his hands were in her hair, and her eyes were shining for _him, _and he’d wanted this for so long, and this felt like the first time in his life he had ever really been happy.__

__“Do you, York?” She asked, her voice soft, the tremble still there._ _

__He wanted to press kisses to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her jaw, but words had to come first. “I do. I always did.”_ _

__And maybe he wished she hadn’t done what she did, but that didn’t matter. Not right then. That was a thing for _later._ All that mattered now was that she was here, and his hands were on her face, and he’d wanted this for _so long._ _ _

__“How can you, just, let go of everything I did? How can you accept me so easily?”_ _

__“You know the answer to that as well as I do.”_ _

__Her face fractured for the tiniest heartbeat, and they both knew that she knew. She knew York loved her and always had and always would. She knew that York understood her reasoning, even if she’d never opened up much, even if she’d never let him understand _her._ She knew that the past didn’t matter; all that mattered was that they had each other. Finally. _ _

__His thumb brushed her cheek, eyes blinking slow because he didn’t want to miss a second of this. “I can’t believe you’re here.”_ _

__And she half-laughed, music to his ears, and said, “Yeah, me neither.”_ _

__He allowed himself to touch his lips to her forehead, barely and briefly, and then lean back once more. “Why’d you come back?”_ _

__And this was the _sit down and talk about it_ part, but neither of them moved. Carolina’s eyes flitted over his face, his never leaving brilliant peridot. He buzzed with disbelief still, with ecstasy and relief and the smallest traces of fear at what she’d say next. She swallowed heavily and his need for response amplified. _ _

__“I… Couldn’t leave things how they were. I can’t stay for long, because no one can know that I’m here, but I needed to see you. At least one last time.”_ _

__And it shattered across his ribs, the way she said it, shrapnel flaring through his crippled heart, but he saw the look she had and knew what he had to do. He had to understand. That was his one job: to be whatever Carolina needed that he could provide, and she didn’t need much. Mostly, she just needed someone to encourage her to take care of herself, too, but that had been then. This was now. All she needed now was for him to understand. One last time._ _

__Maybe it was stupid to hope, but he still let himself redact that last part- he could never believe anything with Carolina would be the last time._ _

__“Say what you need to, Carolina,” he said, because he could see the words hovering around her._ _

__She took a breath, steadying herself. “I know you forgive me, even though I have no reason to be forgiven, and I appreciate it.” She met his eyes. “I- I can’t run away with you. That’s not happily ever after for me.”_ _

__“That stings a bit,” he admitted, coughing out a pained laugh._ _

__“Sorry,” she said, mustering the ghost of a grin. “It’s not because of you. In- in a perfect world, it would be you and me and not a single thing to worry about. But the world isn’t perfect, and there’s so much I still need to do, and none of this is your fault but it- it affects you. And for that… I _am_ sorry. I- I care about you.” The words she almost said stared him down, but he wouldn’t pry it from her. “I’m just…” _ _

__“It’s okay.”_ _

__“It’s not.”_ _

__He took her hand in his, clutched it between them. “It _is._ I don’t care too much about perfect worlds, Carolina. All I care about is that you’re happy. That’s not to give you some obligation to return it or drop everything and leave with me. I tried asking that of you, and it wasn’t what you wanted. That’s okay. Coming here? Risking being followed just to see me and rectify the past? That makes up for all of it.” _ _

__The truth of it swirled around them, that York didn’t care what happened, only that she’d come after him._ _

__She leaned up on her tip-toes, and this time when their lips met it wasn’t need, or reunion, or even clumsiness. It was her kissing him, sweet, savored, chasing away ghosts. They were here now and they had each other and that was all they needed._ _

__Carolina dropped back to her heels and glanced around the room._ _

__“York?”_ _

__“Hmm?”_ _

__“I’m… Kind of tired.”_ _

__He chuckled. “Would you like my bed? I’ve got a couch-”_ _

__“No, I… Come here.”_ _

__She locked his door and then took him by the hand to his bed. His eyebrows raised._ _

__“Let’s- let’s lay down together.”_ _

__Her voice quivered and he heard the strength behind it, the willpower it had taken for her to say that. His dream flashed in his mind, reality before him, and York had always been impulsive. Resisting kissing her or touching her, he could do; resisting holding her when she invited him to do so, he could never._ _

__York laid down on the bed and pulled the blankets back over himself, leaving room for Carolina. She stared at him with apprehensive eyes for a heartbeat, and those green eyes had always been so damn expressive, and then all but threw herself down next to him and burrowed against his chest. Her arms wrapped around him and her head fell into his ribs. York dropped the blanket and clutched her close, breathing in that familiar scent, and his throat grew tight as something in him clicked back together._ _

__His eyes closed as he held her. Maybe she’d be gone in the morning, but he’d see her again. Maybe a few words and two kisses shouldn’t make up for all the pain he’d been through, but anything was better than nothing when it came to Carolina. Maybe holding her in a shabby shack while he was little more than a common thief wasn’t the life Carolina deserved, but she’d chosen to come here to him._ _

__And that was all that mattered: that she’d come after him, and it wasn’t just a dream._ _

__His fingers tangled in his hair as he closed his eyes._ _

__For the first time, his dreams were nothing compared to reality._ _

__When he woke with his fingers still in her hair and sunlight streaming through the window, all he could do was smile._ _


End file.
